While Jan had laughed at the remark, she had understood its meaning. Though he loved his father, Andrew wanted nothing to do with the Army. Whenever the subject came up he was fond of saying that he had devoted enough of his life following the flag, just as Jan had since her marriage to Scott. Andrew had no intention of continuing the practice. So it was with great sense of relief that his older brother, Nathan, was being anointed by their father, as a true believer worthy enough to receive the McPherson sword. Equally pleasing to Andrew was that his brother accepted both the weapon and the role as the defender of the faith and the keeper of the family’s traditions.

Only after great reflection did Nathan take the sword from his father’s hand. When it had passed from father to son, the son held it at arm’s length, looking at it as if he were viewing it for the first time. In truth he was seeing this symbol with new eyes as he felt the power and the weight of the lineage that this sword carried as he never had before. When Nathan finally looked up at Scott, the son smiled. “I really don’t know what to say,” he stammered.

Scott said nothing as he looked into his son’s eyes and prayed, deep in his soul, that the day would not come when this child would ever have to pay the ultimate price that his choice of vocation might demand. He prayed that some day, years from now when he was gone, Nathan would have the opportunity to pass the sword on to a son of his own.

POCATELLO, IDAHO • JULY 7

While the Dixon clan was reflecting upon their duties, others were preparing to fulfill theirs.

From their van two men watched the front of the gun shop that sat cattycorner from them. Sweating, as much from his nervousness as the heat, Special Agent Tim Werner squirmed about in his seat. He toyed with the idea of removing the windbreaker he was wearing. But every time he was on the verge of doing so, Werner would drop that idea. While it was bad enough that their muted red delivery truck literally stuck out like a sore thumb, the sight of one of its occupants dressed in a bulletproof vest would have made their identity and purpose even more obvious. Of course, the idea that they could sit parked on the street as they were for as long as they had without being noticed was laughable. Yet Werner and his partner, Albert Zimmerman, weren’t laughing.

With darkness falling and traffic in this part of town trailing off, without any sign that the owner of the gun shop was about to appear, the likeliness that their stakeout had been compromised was becoming all but impossible to deny. Given the background of the individual they were waiting to arrest, and the incident in Wyoming two months prior, the two agents in the van knew that anything could happen.